


Sky Full Of Stars

by wouldratherbe



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Childhood Friends, Multi, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:15:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29391834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wouldratherbe/pseuds/wouldratherbe
Summary: Okay, so maybe none of her friends were normal. But Santana Lopez was the closest thing she’s ever had to it.or: Rachel loves her girlfriend. She does! And nothing's going to change that. Not 4,000 miles, or a new show on Broadway, or vulterine love-interests, and especially not the girl she left in Ohio.
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Sam Evans, Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray, Rachel Berry/Santana Lopez
Comments: 12
Kudos: 53





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> title from 'sky full of stars' by coldplay.
> 
> for: char

“Quinn and Rachel!”

“Quinn, look over here!”

“Lucy!”

Rachel casts a look at her girlfriend, watching her face. That one’s bound to get a reaction out of her, for sure.

Once again, however, she’s proven incorrect, and shocked at the girl’s lack of emotion. Or, real emotion, that is. Quinn’s fingers are like a vise around her own, and Rachel can’t help but wonder what’s going through her head. She’ll find out later, once the prying eyes are gone and they’re tucked in her bedroom with thick walls and an angry teenager.

Her eyes trail down to Quinn’s bare shoulders, and the blonde subconsciously shivers, as if she knows Rachel’s watching her. It’s probably just because of the cold, seeing as it’s almost March in New York of all places. Quinn gives her a quick grin, before turning back to the flashing cameras.

She drifts off moments later to join her cast, and Rachel finds herself in between the Fabrays.

When she first met them as Quinn’s _parents,_ and not as Quinn’s _managers,_ she had assumed they hated her. And they probably had. She was the very opposite of Peter York, Quinn’s previous romantic endeavor, and, therefore, the opposite of what they’d wanted for their precious daughter.

Plus, it was in the middle of Quinn trying to ruin her career (which had, in turn, only strengthened it, much to her chagrin), and their relationship was not seen as anything of substance. But it had been two years, and Rachel wasn’t going anywhere. Whatever hatred they’d felt for her then, was now filled with love, and a permanent spot in their vacation plans, and Quinn’s premieres.

Sometimes, Rachel isn’t sure that it’s a good thing.

“You look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” Russell shouts above the uproar, wrapping a strong arm around Rachel.

Judy titters, pulling her phone out to capture the event, and Rachel allows herself to be pulled into his side as the camera focuses on them, all smiles.

“No, of course not,” Rachel grins. “I’m really… proud of her.”

Quinn chooses that exact moment to look in their direction, and the smile she gives Rachel is genuine.

Rachel can’t help but grin back, her cheeks pinking up at the undivided attention. The smile falls as she realizes Quinn’s talking about _her._ Talking about their relationship. To her millions of fans.

“We’re glad you were able to come with us tonight, Rachel,” Judy calls, leading them to the front of the theatre to wait for Quinn there. “We know you’re busy, but it means so much to Quinn.”

“To _all_ of us,” Russell corrects. “And we can’t wait to see the show next week.”

Right. The show. _Her_ show. The one she should be in previews for.

“Yes! Yes, we’re… it’s finally coming together.”

“Nervous yet?”

She shrugs. “A little. I hope it does well, but… I’m confident in my abilities to give a great show.”

Judy and Russell share a look, before chuckling. “As long as we’ve known you, Rachel, we’ve never doubted your ability to give a good show.”

Rachel doesn’t have time to stress over whether that compliment was backhanded or genuine, because Quinn’s slipping her hand into Rachel’s, and they’re entering the theatre.

Quinn barely watches the movie, instead looking around to see everyone else’s reactions, and Rachel grips her hand the fifth time she catches Quinn staring at her, before leaning her head on the blonde’s shoulder in an effort to placate her. She knows it works when she feels the weight of Quinn’s head on top of her own, and smiles softly, before gasping as Quinn’s character gets shoved to the ground.

The movie, yet another one of those blockbuster adaptations of a seven-part young adult series, has Quinn as the little sister who, at the end of the current one, will rise up to take her brother’s place as the leader of the revolution.

Quinn had just been cast as Jasper when Rachel met her. They were ten, and Rachel had a recurring role on a Disney show that Quinn was a regular on. The show was a testament to how well they acted, because Rachel still remembers a tiny little Quinn berating her for standing on her mark during their first rehearsal, crying in her trailer for half an hour afterwards, and then acting like she and Quinn were best friends.

That was how most of their interactions on that set went, but a couple of years later, Quinn went to see Rachel in her new show on Broadway, and had jumped up and down and _squealed_ when she saw the brunette, and Rachel had taken the shift in stride. They’d been inseparable ever since.

When they’re in the same town, that is.

That’s just how it works for them. Rachel’s known to even be on set while Quinn is filming, and it isn’t unusual to find Quinn in Rachel’s dressing room after the show. It makes it easier to have a long-distance relationship while Quinn’s in Austria, or wherever, filming for months at a time.

She extended her vacation outside of the premiere for a few days, in order to see Rachel’s show open, and Rachel’s not looking forward to the six-hour time difference once Quinn goes back. Between her show, and school, and auditioning for colleges that are going to take her no matter what, Rachel doesn’t have time to jetset around the world to visit Quinn.

Not for the first time, she feels a pang of envy at the fact that Quinn was homeschooled, and graduated almost three years early, in order to focus on her job. Her parents barely even discussed college with her, since she was nowhere near ready to think about it, and at fifteen, didn’t even want it.

Rachel doesn’t have that option. Her fathers made sure she knew that college was not something she could choose to dismiss, even if she did just study musical theatre. In six months, she’ll be in a dorm room at NYADA, and that’s that.

But for now, Rachel just leans against her girlfriend and takes it all in.

Quinn’s character, Jasper, is silently crying on the big screen, sitting under a staircase.

Quinn is just staring at herself, _frowning_ at herself, and Rachel knows she’s dissecting her performance. She grabs her hand, and Quinn whips her head to the side, scowling.

“Stop,” Rachel whispers. “It’s great.”

Quinn just nods, before leaning down and whispering back in Rachel’s ear, “Thank you.”

Rachel smiles softly, and Quinn lets go of her hand.

* * *

“What was your favorite part?” Quinn asks, kicking off her shoes and turning around so Rachel can unzip her dress.

The brunette sighs, worrying her lip. “I don’t know. Acting wise, I think your last scene with Juniper was really good. The one where she’s telling you to be strong, because Jeb’s dead, so it’s all on you? It’s a really heavy moment, but the way you guys played it made it seem so… soft. Sad.”

Quinn smiles, nods. Her dress slips down to her ankles. Rachel watches it fall.

“My dads are still insisting I go to NYADA,” she murmurs.

“Did you think they’d back off?” the blonde whispers, moving behind Rachel on the plush bed so she can unbutton her blouse, her nails accidentally scratching as they move to pull the hem up over her head.

“No, but… I hoped they would. I don’t want to go to school to do exactly what I’m already doing. It’s redundant.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

Rachel stands, not on the floor, but on the bed, kicking her skirt off to join Quinn’s dress. Quinn laughs, and then tuts at her, pulling the articles of clothing off the floor and tossing it on the armchair. They’ll hang it all up in a little bit.

They collapse back against the headboard, the brunette wrapping an arm around her girlfriend and tugging her into her side.

“What do you want for your birthday?” Rachel asks, using her free arm to grab the makeup wipes she’d purposely left on her nightstand for this moment.

“Nothing,” Quinn sighs. “Don’t get me anything, Rachel.”

“Why not?” the girl whines, scooting down to meet Quinn face to face. “Eighteen! That’s a big age, you know. My dads offered to get me a pony! I said no, of course, but the meaning was clear. Nothing was off the table.”

The blonde considers this, and Rachel huffs a breath as her brow raises. “Fine. If you really want to get me something, then you can take off a week, and we can go on vacation. By ourselves.”

“By ourselves,” Rachel mimics, her skin heating up under the fingers that are now circling her hip. She wipes under Quinn’s eye, smiling at the freckle that’s visible, unencumbered by concealer.

“You, me… My parents will pay for it.”

“No!” Rachel dissents.

Quinn’s hands move to her wrist, pulling Rachel on top of her and pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “Yes. Your time is my birthday present.”

Rachel rolls her eyes. “My time?”

Quinn hums her agreement, and Rachel has just enough sense to pull back from the lips now chasing hers.

“Quinn.”

“Mm.”

“We didn’t hang up the dresses.”

* * *

“Did you have to pick out a skirt that barely covers my ass?” Quinn grumbles, smoothing the fabric underneath her before she sits.

“Did you have to sleep in until eight when you _knew_ we had breakfast plans today?” Rachel counters. “Honestly, Quinn. I gave you enough time to wake up and pick out your own outfit, and you decided to sleep in another hour.”

“No, you’ve just been obsessed with my legs since that stupid costume party. It’s freezing!”

Rachel smirks, remembering the old cheerleading uniform that Quinn had borrowed from her mom that night. The cheerleader to her football player, complete with her dad’s old letterman and all. She’d spent a good week after that trying to get Quinn to sign onto a high school movie. 

“It’ll warm up.”

Quinn rolls her eyes at her girlfriend, opening her mouth to speak, before fixing their waiter with a withering glare as he interrupts them. “Hello, ladies! What can I get for you today?”

“Water,” Quinn huffs. “No ice.”

“I’ll take an apple juice,” Rachel smiles. “Please and thank you.”

The poor guy gives her a thankful grin, before nodding his head and leaving the way he came.

“You could be nicer to him, you know. I don’t think you’re making his life any easier with the way you’re behaving. You don’t even have a reason to be upset. When-”

“My God, Rachel. I’ll be nicer. Can we drop it?”

Rachel doesn’t know what to make of this. She never does. Ever since Quinn’s premiere last week - or, to be more specific, the day after - she’s been irritated and irritating. Rachel knows that dealing with the press takes a lot out of her girlfriend, but it doesn’t mean that she can be short with everyone else around her. It’s starting to grate on Rachel’s nerves.

“If you didn’t want to come to breakfast with me today, you could’ve said that. I didn’t even have to come over last night. We can even go home, still,” Rachel offers, accepting her drink with a smile, and absently nodding as she hears Quinn thank the man.

Quinn shakes her head as he leaves their table, flipping her menu open. “No, I want to be here with you, I just… God, this water is cold. I said no ice.”

“There’s no ice in there,” Rachel mutters, inspecting the drink as Quinn holds it out to her. She takes a sip and nods. “That’s good water.”

“Water is water, Rachel.”

“No, but that’s really good. I want that water in my home.”

_“Anyway,”_ Quinn sighs, her eyes growing wide as she tries to move them back on track. Rachel tries to stifle her giggles, but they just grow louder as Quinn winks at her, before sobering up herself. “I wanted to talk to you.”

That does it.

Quinn glances up as Rachel falls silent, and shrugs. “Nothing bad, just… News. I was talking to the director, and he wants us to go back to Austria as soon as possible.”

The blonde is staring at her, tucking her hair behind her ears. She’s waiting for a reaction, but all Rachel’s feeling is anger, and that won’t go over well. Not here. “Rachel?”

“You’re leaving? What about my, my premiere? Quinn, it’s tomorrow night-”

“I’ll be in town for that,” Quinn assuages, reaching across the table for Rachel’s hand. “I wouldn’t miss your premiere for the world! But I’m leaving… the next morning.”

“So you’re missing my dads’ anniversary, and my press tour, and-”

Quinn squeezes her hand, and Rachel can’t help but feel like it’s meant to quiet her, more than provide any type of comfort. “Rachel, I can’t stay. Please don’t make me feel worse than I already do!”

Rachel pulls her hand from Quinn’s, and crosses her arms so the girl can’t reach them, refusing to meet her eyes. “It’s not my fault if you feel bad, Quinn.”

“Are you ladies ready to order?”

This time, it’s Rachel scowling at the man, rattling off her order before shoving the menu into his hands. He gives her a strange look, but nods and braces for Quinn. She’s nothing but nice, however, making up for her girlfriend, and they both watch him walk away with the world’s most confused look on his face.

Quinn sighs, twiddling her thumbs as she stares at the late morning traffic next to them. It’s after the fifth honk of a horn that she faces forward, leaning into their conversation. “Are you okay?”

“Mhm,” is the tight response.

Rachel knows that Quinn knows that she is _not_ okay, but she really can’t bring herself to act like it, because _God._ This was supposed to be their time together. And, as usual, it’s getting -

“Rachel.”

\- cut short.

“I guess I’m just…” She trails off with a nod of her head, staring at her girlfriend’s hands, and slowly making her way up to those piercing hazel eyes.

Quinn tilts her head, silently asking Rachel to go on, her brow furrowing as she tries to make sense of what her girlfriend is saying.

“I fly all over to see you, and I make it to your premieres, and I deal with your crazy schedule, and it feels like… Like I’m always the one sacrificing.”

“That’s not true.” Quinn frowns, twirling her straw in her water before cupping her chin in her hand. “That’s definitely not true. For instance, when you were filming that movie in Australia, I came and visited you for two weeks. And when you broke your hand last year, I flew home to see you. And I haven’t missed a premiere since the ABC upfronts, like, two years ago. And that’s only because I was called in for reshoots at the last minute. That’s not true, Rachel.”

She looks hurt at the implication of it, and Rachel sighs. She doesn’t want them both to be more miserable than they already are, so she backtracks, folds her arms on the table.

“I still don’t want you to leave.”

This makes the corners of Quinn’s mouth quirk up, and she squeezes Rachel’s hand, thumb running over tan skin in what is quickly becoming a very sad moment. The brunette groans to break the tension, leaning her head on the table, and Quinn giggles a little, shaking her head. 

She picks their hands up, bringing them to her mouth to press a kiss against Rachel’s, before shrugging. “If we want it to work, then it’s what we have to do. You know this, babe. But it’ll be okay.”

One look into Quinn’s eyes can tell her that it’ll be okay. And if it isn’t… 

No. It will be. It has to be.

* * *

It’s raining.

She has a premiere this afternoon, and it’s raining.

_**Quinnie:** rain is clogging the streets. i’ll be there asap, but idk if i’ll see u b4 the show. [12:43 p.m.]_

Rachel is going to kill herself.

_**Quinnie:** don’t freak out, tho!!! you’ll do great, and I will see you during, and after the show. i’ll meet u at the stage door. break a leg, my love ;* [12:44 p.m.]_

The actress sighs, her thumbs dancing around before she types out a reply.

_**Me:** Okay. Get here safe, no rush. :) I love you! [Delivered 12:46 p.m.]_

_**Quinnie:** love you more!!! <3 [12:46 p.m.]_

“Is she on her way?”

Rachel glances at her dads as she sets her phone down, picking her mic up. “She’s stuck in traffic. But she’ll be here soon. Can one of you-”

“I got it,” LeRoy hums, grabbing her comb and parting her hair.

“Well, that’s okay,” Hiram speaks. “She’ll be here soon, and we have that seat saved for her. It’ll be fine. Besides, you don’t need the distraction. Focus on the show.”

She nods, taking a deep breath. She needs to focus on the show. On her character.

All too soon, they’re calling the half-hour mark, and her dads are filed out of her room with kisses to her cheeks and promises to take mental notes. The stage manager, Audrey, peeks in, and gives her a once-over, before checking something off on their clipboard.

“Anything you need?” they ask, copper curls bouncing as they back out of the room. She shakes her head, and tries to settle her turning stomach, and they both give each other nervous grins, before they move onto the next dressing room.

And then Blaine’s there, with perfectly coiffed waves and an ecstatic smile. He kicks a leg up onto her chair to cuff his legs, and she takes the time to cuff the collar of his denim jacket while he tugs on the hem of her dress.

“Is she here yet?” Blaine murmurs.

Rachel shrugs, hand running over the back of his neck to smooth his mic tape. “She said she’s on her way. She could be here by now.”

The boy simply hums, mouth tightening into a line as he leans forward to kiss her cheeks.

After another second, they stand up straight and appraise each other, before Blaine leans forward and pulls his castmate into a hug. “Twenty minutes.”

“Just about,” Rachel wheezes, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“All good?” he questions, and she nods, braving a smile. “Then I’ll see you onstage, _Mia.”_

She’s not… nervous. Not for herself, anyway. For the show, sure. She worries about how well it’ll do. If the ensemble will be in time with each other. If everyone will hit their marks. If the producers will be happy.

But, really, everyone’s been doing everything they can for weeks. Months. Years, even. If everything doesn’t go according to plan, then something is seriously wrong.

But everything goes according to plan, and nothing is seriously wrong.

God, it can’t have gone better.

Rachel swears she can feel the energy radiating off the audience from the second the lights go up on her and Paolo. They laugh at all the right times, and when she makes eye contact with someone during her solo, gasps and sobs are heard throughout the whole auditorium. 

They get a standing ovation, obviously, and somehow she spots Quinn, sitting with her fathers near the front. Someone hands her a bouquet filled with white flowers, and Blaine sidles up against her, kissing her cheek. Rachel’s pretty sure that’s the moment the tears start coming. She blows Quinn a kiss as the director addresses the audience, cheeks red - both from the exertion of the finale, and the hot stage lights shining down on her.

It’s another forty minutes before Rachel can escape to her dressing room, but when she does, she’s greeted by Quinn, who’s handing her a Playbill with a bright, “Can I _please_ get your autograph?”

“No,” she rushes out, hands grasping the girl’s and pulling her through the door.

Quinn dutifully waits until they’re locked in on the other side to smother her with kisses.

“Was it good?” Rachel breathes, fingers tangling themselves in blonde curls.

Quinn leans back with a kiss to the tip of her girlfriend’s nose, and smiles warmly at her, nodding. “It was amazing. You were brilliant. God, Rach, I’m so proud of you.”

Rachel giggles at the praise. “We’re a true power couple now.”

“We’ve always been a power couple. Now, turn around so I can do this hair, and we can go to the party.”

* * *

“So, how do _you_ think the show went tonight?”

Rachel glances behind the interviewer to where Quinn stands with their parents, laughing at something her dad says. “I think it went amazingly. We all put our best foot forward, and I think our show today reflected that.”

The woman nods, ginger curls bouncing. “One last question, Rachel. How are you and Quinn Fabray doing?”

The microphone is stuck back in her face, and Rachel tries not to grimace at how her relationship is being put in the limelight. Again. These days, it seems like it always is. But she smiles anyway, and says, “She’s great. We’re great. She’s almost done filming, so I’m excited to have her back in the city with me.”

The interviewer eats it up, and Rachel’s pretty sure she gets called adorable half a dozen times before they finally let her go.

Blaine’s at her side instantly, pulling her back onto the red carpet for another round of photos with just the two of them. Except it’s actually just a chance to talk, their words disguised by the shuttering of cameras.

“Harmony’s here,” Blaine mutters, hand going to Rachel’s waist. “My dad keeps trying to get me to talk to her.”

Rachel huffs a laugh. “You can’t be serious.”

“From denial to anger, and then back to denial, I guess. At least he stopped trying to pray the gay away. But I need your help,” he sighs, pausing to smile at a cameraman calling his name.

“Of course.”

“Keep her near us tonight. So my parents don’t-”

“Blaine, Quinn hates her,” Rachel interrupts. “She _hates_ her.”

The boy gives a defeated sigh, shrugging. “I know.”

“But I’ll do what I can.”

She and Blaine are seated at the same table with their parents, and after Quinn’s parents leave, with each giving Rachel a hug and congratulating her, Quinn joins them. Not that Rachel pays a lot of attention to Quinn. Honestly, she kind of forgets about her girlfriend.

She takes her time making the rounds, stopping to thank their producers and investors and schmooze the Tony nominators. Her fathers leave with a demand that she call them before she leaves, and then Blaine pulls her onto the stage for a song, and it’s only then, under the semi-bright lights, does she remember that she totally left Quinn at her table, talking to some casting agents.

Except that is not a casting agent. That is, however, Tessa Green, one of Rachel’s old co-workers. A year older than Rachel, substantially more famous… And she just broke up with her boyfriend.

Rachel lets Blaine pull her off the stage as the song ends, and makes her way towards the table, focused on how Quinn’s head is tilted towards the other girl, corners of her mouth quirking as the other girl laughs.

“Rachel! Blaine!”

“For fuck’s sake,” Blaine mutters under his breath, pasting a faux smile on his face as Harmony comes into view. “Harmony! So good to see you!”

Rachel zones out as Harmony leans forward, kissing her cheeks, before doing the same to Blaine. “Hi, Harmony.”

The girl grins at them maniacally, gripping their forearms hard enough to leave bruises. “You guys did so well! Rachel, I almost didn’t notice when you flubbed that line in the second act!”

Rachel shushes her, eyes focused on where Quinn has her hand on Tessa’s shoulder, slowly moving it down. And, yep, it’s no longer in sight. She squeezes Blaine’s shoulder, nodding to their table, and he follows her gaze, before grimacing. “I’ll be back.”

Rachel grabs her girlfriend as quickly as she can, and pulls her into the nearest bathroom, before fixing her with her meanest scowl. “What are you doing?”

Quinn jabs a thumb behind her, her brow furrowing as if she’s confused, and Rachel has to resist rolling her eyes. “I was just talking to her about her new project-”

“You were flirting. I know you, and I know that’s what you were doing. So why? What’s going on with you?”

“What’s going _on_ with me?” Quinn repeats. “First of all, I have been sitting at a table for an hour, watching you parade around with Blaine, okay? So, you have no right to get mad at me for _talking_ to someone.”

“You weren’t talking, Quinn. Talking doesn’t involve sliding your hand down someone’s thigh,” Rachel counters, stepping up to stand eye-to-eye with the girl. “What’s going on with you?”

Quinn breaks her gaze, and stares at the wall behind Rachel as she crosses her arms across her chest, decidedly not answering the question.

“Seriously? The silent treatment?” Rachel rolls her eyes, reaching behind her for the door handle, and Quinn grabs her wrist, scowling at the floor like a petulant child.

“I’m not giving you the silent treatment, I just… I don’t feel like fighting with you tonight, Rachel. Not tonight.”

The silent moment goes stale, drawn out much longer than it needs to be, and Rachel moves to stand in front of the sink, facing her girlfriend’s sullen face. “I can’t sit in this bathroom with you all night.”

“Then can we just go home?” Quinn reaches out to cup her girlfriend’s cheek, and presses a kiss to her forehead, before pulling her into a hug. “That’s all I want to do.”

“No, I have to stay. I _want_ to stay. This is my premiere, Quinn.” She glares daggers at the girl as she pulls away, hand fisting in the tulle of her dress.

Quinn winces, turning to face herself in the mirror. It’s silent for a moment, and Rachel debates leaving her there, but finally the blonde speaks, pushing her hair behind her ears. “I get that, but… No. you’re right. You’re right. We’ll stay.”

Quinn’s an actor. Rachel knows that, of course. She’s honestly attracted to Quinn in work mode. The girl can get whatever she wants, from whoever she wants, whether through force or pity, and it’s worked out for Rachel more than once.

But she doesn’t like this. She hates when Quinn tries to use her skills on her. Especially when she sets the pitifulness up to high. So she watches her, and tries to figure out if Quinn actually _means_ what she’s saying, or if she’s just trying to get her way. It’s all in the eyes, she knows.

Quinn raises her brow, asking, “What?” and Rachel just pushes past her, meshing herself back into the crowd, and ignoring Quinn’s lagging presence behind her.

Blaine grabs her hand and pulls her to where some tables have been cleared for a mini dance floor, and kisses her cheek. Then he reaches behind her and pulls Quinn onto the floor, too. And then, after a moment of hesitation, he calls Harmony’s name, and she joins them.

It’s a real party, and Rachel knows that she should be having fun. Her girlfriend, her best friend, the girl his parents want him to date, and herself, on a dance floor. It’s everything she wanted tonight. And yet, she finds that she can’t enjoy herself like before. Her night’s just a little bit ruined.

Quinn notices, because of course she does, and kisses her cheek, looking rightly guilty. “I am so proud of you.”

“Thank you,” Rachel murmurs, turning around in her arms. Quinn spins her once, before kissing her deeply, and somewhere to her right, a camera flash goes off.

When they break apart, she presses her forehead against Quinn’s, and searches her eyes for a reason. It’s all in the eyes, after all. Another flash goes off, and as the girlfriend presses another kiss against her cheek, she can’t help but wonder if that’s why Quinn did it.

* * *

_**lqfabray:** back to the grindstone!!! - LaGuardia Airport_

A superficially happy Quinn stares up at Rachel, arms wrapped around her mother as she grins at the camera. A blue baseball cap sits sideways on her head, and - _oh, my God, that’s my baseball cap._

Her flight doesn’t take off for over an hour, but she said she’d text Rachel when she was boarding, and if the brunette’s being honest, she wants to test that theory. And acknowledging Quinn’s post would ruin her… plan. Rachel’s thumb hovers over the heart, but she refuses to like it, instead going to her own profile and liking the posts her fans have tagged her in.

Senior year is a joke, she’s learned. She’s only in school for four hours a day, and one hour of that is spent in a “study hall,” where she scrolls through her phone, or goes through her notes from the previous night. Her phone won today.

She gets an incoming Facetime from Blaine, and grins when she sees his dark curls fill the camera. “I thought you were in school.”

“Eh. Passing period. I just wanted to ask you what you did after you left the premiere. It was a pretty abrupt exit.”

Yeah, because Quinn having a fit and then acting like she didn’t have a fit kind of ruined things for her. And yet, she keeps her voice steady as she speaks, angling her phone up so she can look him in the eye. “I, uh, went home with Quinn.”

She doesn’t know why she feels so dirty when she says it, and not in the way Blaine is thinking.

“Ew!”

“You asked,” the girl laughs, rolling her eyes.

Blaine gags, and Rachel looks away from the screen as her cheeks pink. “Did anything not gross happen?”

Rachel kisses her teeth. “Like… did we talk about the fact that she’s always leaving and making me feel bad about her leaving?”

It’s decidedly silent, and Rachel’s about to just power forward when Blaine forces out a nod, curls bouncing as he whispers, “Yes.”

“Yeah, and then she said that I do the same thing.” A hand comes up to rifle through her hair, and she blinks away the angry tears that form without her bidding. “Do I?”

Her breath catches in her throat as Blaine nods, falling into a seat and waving at someone near him. “Sometimes. But she does it too. It’s just how you guys work. The important thing is that you guys talked about it.”

“Yeah. we’re going on that trip in a few weeks, so we’ll be able to be together then. This is just a rough patch,” she breathes.

Blaine just… stares at her, blinking so slowly that she thinks he’s frozen.

“Blaine?”

“No, yeah. Exactly. Hey, Rachel, I have a test in this class, so I’m going to go now. I’ll talk to you later.”

He ends the call before she has a chance to respond, and she startles when she catches a glimpse of her reflection.

God, she’s so tired. And she has half an hour left of her study hall… And then it’s just her music theory class, which she’s already ahead in.

Her fingers tap her screen with ease, and she pulls up her text thread with Quinn, typing out a quick message.

_**Me:** i have half an hour before my music theory class. Should I take a nap or try to study? [10:17 a.m.]_

_**Quinnie:** you should just leave early. Go home, take a good nap :) [10:19 a.m.]_

_**Me:** you’re a terrible influence on me [10:20 a.m.]_

_**Quinnie:** ;) [10:20]_

* * *

“Hiram, shush. She’s coming.”

“I can hear her.”

“Shush!”

“What are you guys talking about?” Rachel shoves open the front door, brow furrowing as she takes in the sight before her.

Her fathers, both sitting at the kitchen island and staring at her - rather creepily, she thinks. Daddy’s holding a thick white envelope with the NYADA logo on it, and Rachel feels her heart drop.

She puts on a smile anyway, dropping her backpack as she crosses the room. “Don’t you guys have jobs?”

“Our _biggest_ job is you,” her dad murmurs, and Rachel thinks she spots real tears in his eyes as he hands her the letter opener. “Open it.”

Rachel isn’t surprised she gets in. There had never been a doubt in her mind that she wouldn’t. But she can’t say she isn’t proud of herself; the dance audition was a bitch, after all. She feels… trapped, most of all. Like she’s being locked into place. A caged bird.

She can’t recall if she’s ever really been free, though.

“This will be good for you, Rachel,” her daddy says, his hands coming up to cup her cheeks. “It’s what you love, yes?”

She swallows, her head bobbing as she pulls away to stare at the letter in her hands. “Yes.”

Her dad pulls her into a hug, and she accepts it, letting them both cradle her like a toddler. “NYADA will only make you love it more. Being better, the best, even, will make you love your craft more. And if not, we reevaluate at the end of the school year. I promise. If it makes it better, I think you’ll love the school.”

* * *

“And that’s it?”

Rachel shoots a glance at Hailey Lang, one of her fellow company members (and friend) in the mirror. “Yes. I went upstairs, accepted the offer, and then my dads got Thai for dinner.”

Blaine gives a low whistle from in front of her, leaning forward into a penche. They all follow, and Rachel giggles as she spots the back of Hailey’s curly-haired head, before pulling up.

“But it’s okay, you know?” she whispers.

Hailey shrugs, eyes flitting around for their ballet teacher. “I guess. Hey, did you guys hear the mic malfunction last night? During ‘Linen Closet?’”

Blaine gasps dramatically, turning around to stare at his co-stars. “No! Wait, did someone’s mic really malfunction?”

Rachel nods miserably. During one of Paolo’s solos, with her on stage. “An ensemble member’s mic was hot for like five seconds. It only went to the house, though, so I only heard some of it over the piano.”

Hailey scoffs. “It was in the dressing rooms, too. David got it on video.”

The teenagers give her a look, and then share it with each other. “We need to get that video.”

_“And ronde de jambe a terre.”_

“Blaine, is your dad still trying to set you up with Harmony?”

The boy rolls his eyes, and Rachel gives him a sympathetic look.

She really doesn’t know what she would do without Quinn. If her dads kept pushing her to date someone she was nowhere near interested in, for the sake of her reputation… Okay, maybe she does.

“Yeah, but she’s been busy. Our lunch date keeps getting pushed back. Thank God.”

Hailey nods silently, before breaking her line to poke the other girl in the back. “Oh, speaking of busy; Rachel, how’s Quinn?”

“She’s fine,” Rachel answers automatically. “Busy, like you said.”

Hailey chuckles mirthlessly. “So you haven’t talked to her in days.”

“We’re going out of the country next week. We’ve been talking all the time. I literally talked to her this morning,” she defends.

Blaine scoffs. “Texted her.”

Rachel bristles, brow furrowing as she pulls away from the barre, and towards the rest of the group for across-the-floor. She’s getting really tired of people talking about her relationship as if it’s their own.

“Wait, Rach,” Hailey calls, grasping her wrist. “Do you… do you love her?”

The question takes her aback, and that’s the _only_ reason she hesitates to answer. She swears.

“Of course,” she stutters, gently prying the girl’s fingers off her arm. “Of course I do.”

“Hey, you three. First group.”

They all whip around to face their instructor, and Rachel blushes a deep red as she makes her way to the front of the class, eyes becoming dangerously unfocused as she gets lost in her thoughts.

Of course she loves Quinn. Of course she does.

* * *

“I just don’t get why you couldn’t tell him ‘thank you.’”

Rachel tugs her suitcase through the doors of the resort, her sunglasses falling off her nose as she levels Quinn with a scowl.

The blonde takes one look at her and rolls her eyes. “He was being homophobic, Rachel. He kept looking at us weirdly.”

The receptionist, a young woman with her curly hair pulled back into a bun, greets both of them warmly, and Rachel doesn’t miss the way she stares at Quinn, awestruck. She makes sure to give her a winning grin, and Quinn, after receiving an elbow in the side, does the same.

“He was looking at us strangely because we’re teenagers on a solo trip. Famous teenagers, at that. He even wished you a happy birthday, though, so you didn’t need to be so rude,” the singer exclaims, pulling out her ID for the receptionist.

“Well, if we get him on the way home, I’ll tell him ‘thank you,’ Rachel. Happy?”

“Are you Quinn Fabray?”

Both girls whip around at the tiny voice, and Rachel does her best not to audibly aw in front of the little girl. God, she’s practically the spitting image of Quinn, except for the freckles dotting her cheeks.

Quinn kneels in front of her, pulling her sunglasses to sit on top of her head. “Yes, I am. What’s your name?”

“Beth,” the girl states proudly, although her hands twist around each other nervously as she speaks.

Quinn giggles, nodding. “That’s a really nice name. It’s nice to meet you, Beth. How old are you?”

“I’m eight.”

“Beth! I’m sorry, is she bothering you?” a woman asks, suddenly coming up behind the girl and pulling her close to her chest.

Quinn shakes her head, staying at the girl’s level. “Of course not. We were just talking to Miss Beth… Would you like a picture?”

The child’s head bobs so fast that Rachel’s sure it’ll just fall off, and she steps back as the mom takes a picture of the two girls. And then Quinn reaches down to pick Beth up, setting her on her hip.

“Silly face!”

Rachel chuckles as they both pull insanely silly faces for the camera, and then little Beth is on her way, and Quinn’s mood lifts, if only slightly.

“What does she even know you from?” Rachel wonders, looking her girlfriend up and down as they move to the elevators, suite keys in hand. “Not your newer movies, right?”

Quinn paused, brow furrowing. “It has to be the D-com.”

Rachel hummed, shrugging. “She was really cute, though. She looked like you.”

“Yeah, she was sweet.”

The brunette takes a deep breath, before grabbing Quinn’s hand. “I wonder if that’s what your kids would be like.”

Quinn gives her a strange look, shaking her head. “ _My_ kids?”

“Yeah.”

“No.”

Rachel stutters, brow furrowing as the girl drops her hand to unlock the door. “What, you don’t want kids?”

Their room is huge, and she abandons her suitcase by the door, before collapsing on the bed and gasping as Quinn jumps on next to her, bouncing her closer to the edge.

“We’re not talking about this. Now, let’s check out our view,” Quinn grins, pulling the girl up and towards the balcony of their room.

Rachel, even through her disgruntled silence, admits that it’s one of the prettiest things she’s ever seen. The beach is sparkling, pulling waves in and out. The soft breeze floats through the trees, and Quinn’s hair, and God, she looks like she could stay here forever.

But they only have a week, and they’re going to make the best of it.

They navigate the rest of the day quietly, spending most of it at the beach, splashing and dragging each other into the water. It’s when they’re kissing after dinner - albeit next to a very public restaurant - that Rachel spots the cameras, and pulls Quinn back to their room.

“They’re probably just random people,” she says, pulling Quinn on top of her. The blonde just shrugs, eyes fluttering shut as she leans down to kiss her.

Rachel grips her forearms, though, pushing her off, and Quinn takes a deep breath, fixing her with a _look._

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry… for talking about kids,” she whispers.

Quinn rolls her eyes, exasperated, but presses a kiss to her cheek in appreciation. Then she’s up off the bed, pulling Rachel with her and losing clothes at an alarming rate. “Let’s just leave it. We have so many other things we could be doing.”

And, okay, Rachel isn’t going to say no to that.

* * *

They spend their second-to-last-day - Quinn’s 18th birthday - snorkeling, and then in bed, and then at dinner, and then in bed, and then partying at the closest club next to the hotel, and then at the beach, and then, finally, in bed. Honestly, Rachel’s just glad their faces aren’t all over Twitter, because it’s all a blur.

Rachel wakes up on the last day to an empty bed, and her first thought is _finally._ She was getting tired of Quinn waking her up for their “next adventure” at six in the morning. Her second thought is _where the hell is Quinn?_

“Quinn?” she calls, scooting off the bed and grabbing the dress that Quinn tossed across the room the night before. God, she can’t wait to do laundry. “Q, where are you?”

“Out here.”

Rachel moves towards the patio, and is immediately taken aback by the sight before her.

God, it’s never going to stop, is it? She’s never going to not be amazed by this. The waves, the sun, the birds, the trees. The girl curled up in the rocking chair, eyes focused on the beach in front of her.

“What are you doing out here?”

Quinn turns to face her, giving Rachel a soft smile as she pats her lap. “Just thinking. Come here.”

It’s silent as Rachel situates herself on her girlfriend’s lap, leaning back to stare at the waves crashing in and out. She thinks Quinn’s fallen asleep when she finally speaks.

“Do you want to have a family, Rachel?” Quinn asks, fixing the girl with an introspective look.

“Not only do I want to have a family, Quinn, but I want to have one with you,” she answers, pressing a kiss to the blonde’s cheek. All she can think about are those hazel eyes on a baby. _Their_ baby. She can’t help the way her heart melts.

Quinn is silent. “You love me that much?”

“I love you that much.” It’s said softly, and Quinn leans forward to kiss her at the declaration, before she peppers pecks all over her face, causing giggles to erupt from both of the girls.

The blonde ends with a soft peck to her nose, her eyes turning serious as she pulls Rachel back to her chest. “I love you, too. More. But I don’t know how good I’d be at… being a mom. I don’t know what a normal family is like. I mean, how do you even raise kids when you’re us? How do we keep our children safe when everyone knows their name?”

Rachel is quiet, and kisses Quinn’s collarbone, before nodding. “We do have pretty weird lives. But our parents did… They did their best. They raised pretty cool kids, according to me. And I think we’d be the same. We do our best, and it’s enough. Right?”

“Yeah, no. But I do think anyone would be able to raise better kids than my parents, so one point for me,” Quinn huffs, a tiny, unhappy smile gracing her face.

The brunette scoffs, sitting up to straddle the girl’s lap. “Quinn, stop. Your parents love you. They… they accepted you when you came out, and-”

“They _tolerated_ me.”

“Quinn-” She shuts up as Quinn fixes her with a glare, hands moving up to grip her waist.

“Do you really think my parents would be like this, if I wasn’t who I was?” Quinn clamors, her face blushing as the anger boils up inside her.

Rachel leans back to escape the fire in her eyes, but Quinn just comes forward with her, and the brunette knows she’s not getting away anytime soon. “I don’t know-”

“Do you really think I would’ve fallen for you? My parents would’ve hated you.”

“Nice, Quinn.” Rachel tries to move off Quinn’s lap at the declaration, but the blonde tightens her arms around her waist, and shakes her head as she backtracks.

“I don’t mean it like that. I mean, we would have either been in hell trying to hide our relationship, or I would’ve dated a stupidly sweet boy and thought about all the ways I could get you off my mind.”

They stare at each other for a second, and the blonde waits for Rachel’s face to relax, sighing as her lips return to Quinn’s neck.

“There isn’t a world in which I wouldn’t love you, Quinn.”

“But maybe there’s a world in which it’s easier. Or… in which our lives are more normal.”

“Like what?” the brunette asks. She honestly can’t think of anything better than this, right now, but she squashes her slight annoyance in order to listen to her girlfriend.

Quinn huffs, thinking for a second, before she smiles softly and tangles her fingers in Rachel’s hair. “Like we’re normal teenagers. We study for tests and go to highschool parties in small towns where nobody knows who we are. Maybe we’re… cheerleaders.” Rachel laughs at the idea of _them_ being _cheerleaders,_ and Quinn rolls her eyes, grin growing wider. “Or theatre kids, or nothing at all.”

“That’s not who we are, Quinn.”

The smile slips off Quinn’s face at that, and sets into a grimace that Rachel isn’t sure she’s going to be able to fix. “I know.”

Rachel soothes her, hand reaching for Quinn’s as she waits for a _but_ that she knows isn’t coming. “I like who we are.”

Quinn’s silence is deafening.


	2. Chapter 2

“And the nominees for _Best Supporting Actress in a Musical_ are…”

Rachel stares intently as the announcers open the envelope on her screen, and hopes that her fingers won’t rip off with how hard she’s twisting them. Her dads pace furiously behind the couch, talking to her manager Tyler on speaker. God, she can barely hear.

“Janie Adams, _Sincerely, Mark Murphy.”_

She’s going to throw up.

“Rachel Berry, _Counterpoint.”_

God, there might as well be an earthquake with how loud the Berrys scream.

“She’s nominated! She made it! Of course she did, but she did!” her daddy screams, running around the couch and pulling her into a vise-like hug. “My baby girl’s Tony-nominated!”

Rachel doesn’t even know who her competition is through all of the commotion, and she can’t bring herself to care because her phone is being inundated with texts, and a call from Quinn.

“You did it!” her girlfriend screams, and she laughs, nodding her head.

“I’m nominated for a Tony!”

“Oh, Rachel, I’m so proud of you. I knew you could do it. God, I love you. I have to go, but we’ll talk tonight, okay? I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Rachel murmurs, before letting her smile fall as Quinn ends the call. Her fathers pull her back onto the couch for the supporting actor nominations, and she pulls up Blaine’s number, eyes watching the announcers intently.

“He’s gonna get it,” her dad mutters, biting his fingernails. “He’s gonna get it, and you guys are going to win Tonys, and then-”

“Blaine Anderson, _Counterpoint.”_

Her dads erupt in cheers again, and her finger taps the green button at lightning speed. She keeps Blaine on the phone for the rest of the nominations, and they watch in awe as _Counterpoint_ garners spots for lead actor and best musical, to add to their five other nominations.

“Berry happy dance,” Hiram demands, pulling her out of her seat after she’s hung up with Blaine. “We need a happy dance right now.”

Rachel’s nominated for a Tony. A _Tony._

Neither of her parents are surprised when she bursts into tears, thirty seconds into their happy dance.

“Happy tears, right?” Quinn questions, later that night. Her face freezes for just a second as Rachel flips her phone, settling it on her face.

“Of course. I mean, this is everything I’ve wanted for… my whole life.”

Quinn gives her a Joker-sized grin, before she disappears beneath her blankets to hide it. “I’m so proud of you. I really am.”

“I know. Thank you.”

“I love you.”

Rachel hums, a blush settling on her cheeks. “Love you, too.”

The blonde’s face turns solemn as she looks away from the camera, squinting at the morning light in her apartment. “And I’m really sorry I can’t come to your graduation.”

Rachel turns to stare out her own blackened window. She would give a lot to be with Quinn, right now. “That’s okay. It’s just a graduation, right? You’ll just have to make it to my college one.”

* * *

The first thing she notices when she gets home is her dad, pacing back and forth in the living room. He’s flipping the remote control in his hand as he speaks quickly to someone on the phone. Probably her daddy.

“Why are we watching… my recording of Jimmy Fallon?” Rachel murmurs, dropping her backpack into the living room chair and collapsing on the couch next to it.

It’s been two weeks since she graduated, but Rachel still almost misses high school. Not that she had a regular high school experience, but even though it was undeniably insane, she was never pushed like this. She never realized how exhausting a full week of shows was, especially when you had press tours and interviews every day, and no legal limit to how many hours you could work. She kind of envies Blaine (even though it was summer, and he was right alongside her at most of the events they attended).

Rachel’s spent all week doing interviews, on top of her eight shows, and she just wants to go to bed early and sleep her dark day all the way through. The absolute _last_ thing she wants to do right now is watch celebrities talk about being celebrities. Ever since graduation, it seems like that’s all she does.

“This isn’t your recording,” LeRoy grins, pressing play and pulling Rachel in close to him.

“Where’s Daddy?”

“Still at work. Now watch.”

She rolls her eyes, before training them on the host.

_“Next up, I have an insanely talented actress. She stars in the movie series ‘Outlands: The Rising’, which you can see in theaters, December first. Let’s welcome Quinn Fabray!”_

Rachel groans, leaning her head back into the couch. “Why are we watching Quinn’s old interview? I’ve seen this, and I’m tired.”

“No, you haven’t. Just watch.”

Quinn comes out, looking as radiant as ever in a soft white dress, hair hanging in tendrils around her face. On second thought, Rachel’s never seen this dress. How has she not seen this dress?

_“It’s so great to see you tonight. So, it’s my understanding that you’ve just made it back to the states, yeah?”_

Quinn nods, switching her gaze between the host and the audience. _“Yes! I actually got in super late last night. My girlfriend doesn’t know I’m home, either.”_

_“She doesn’t know?”_

_“No, I’m trying to surprise her. But she’s at work all day, and her friends are going to help me. So, she shouldn’t see this,”_ she finishes, giggling as the host gives an over-exaggerated laugh.

“Quinn’s home?” Rachel grips her father’s forearm, and LeRoy just chuckles before jutting a thumb behind the couch.

“Surprise!”

The brunette whips around at the voice, her face already breaking into a painful grin as Quinn hops off the kitchen counter. “You didn’t.”

“I did,” Quinn laughs, helping Rachel climb over the back of the couch before sweeping her into a crushing hug. “Took, like, a week of planning, and a ton of late nights, but I did it.”

“God, I missed you,” Rachel whispers, arms pulling back to stare at Quinn. “Don’t ever leave me again.”

Quinn just scoffs, before pulling her towards the stairs. “I promise to do my best. I’m home all summer.”

Well. They can work with that.

* * *

“So, you’re throwing your own homecoming party?”

Most of the Fabray house is … well, for lack of a better word, cold. Staged. It constantly makes Rachel feel like she’s at an open house. But the kitchen and the family room are safe. Full of music and food and laughter. It almost feels like a home.

Rachel watches from the kitchen bar as Quinn flits around the dining room, taping up fairy lights. She’s supposed to be helping, but breakfast seemed more important. Even if it was happening at … 1:30 in the afternoon.

“No.” Quinn tosses a balloon in Rachel’s direction, and cackles as the brunette swats it away from her bowl of oatmeal. “I’m throwing a pool party. Me coming home is merely a … coincidence.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Rachel mutters.

Quinn sighs, tying her t-shirt to fit snugly over her chest. She smirks as Rachel pulls her gaze down, lingering on pale thighs before a well placed pat on the back draws it back up. “Doesn’t need to. Just an excuse to throw a party. Right, Mom?”

Somehow, Judy has snuck up behind Rachel, and the girl can’t help the squeak she lets out when the woman wraps a toned arm around her shoulders.

“Precisely.”

The doorbell rings before Rachel can get another word in, and she breathes a sigh of relief when Judy leaves her side to answer it.

“Who’s coming this early?” Rachel grumbles, slipping out of her seat. She stands behind her girlfriend, hand slipping into the back of her sleep shorts and pulling the blonde closer.

“Blaine,” Quinn sighs, shivering as a kiss is placed behind her ear.

Rachel cringes, pulling away. “Oh, God, Quinn. Don’t say his name like that.”

The blonde turns around in Rachel’s arms, smirking as she drops the roll of tape she’s holding to pick the shorter girl up and place her on the counter. “Your fault.”

“What’s going on in here?” Blaine interrupts, hands full of tote bags.

Quinn just has to laugh at the boy, moving her hands from Rachel’s bottom to her waist. He’s wearing an embarrassing muscle tank, and his swim trunks have cats on them. 

Rachel groans in frustration, legs wrapping around Quinn to keep her from moving away. “Go somewhere else.”

“No, we need his help. Especially since _you_ aren’t helping at all.”

“Damn right, I’m not,” Rachel huffs, reluctantly uncrossing her legs to free Quinn. She watches from her spot on the counter as her girlfriend and best friend work to set up the Fabray house.

She doesn’t understand why they’re putting so much effort into it. Well, that’s not true. Fabrays don’t half-ass anything. But this isn’t even a _Fabray_ party. It’s a _Quinn_ party. She wouldn’t be doing this much for her party unless there was someone she was trying to impress. And if there was someone she was trying to impress, she would’ve told Rachel. Right?

Rachel dismisses the notion. Quinn just wants to put on a good party. She hasn’t had one since her seventeenth birthday, and while that had been a good party … Actually, it could’ve completely sucked. Rachel doesn’t remember it.

Blaine’s in the middle of putting place cards labeled with different snack names on the dining room table when a squeaky pair of shoes make their way through the house and find them.

“Sorry I’m late, Quinn,” a disembodied voice says, rounding the corner.

The girl obviously isn’t expecting to see anyone other than Quinn, with how her sickeningly sweet grin drops at the sight of Rachel spooning oatmeal into her mouth.

She’s cute, Rachel notices, with her long dark hair and narrow brown eyes. And… God, does she spend all her time working out? And why is she looking at Quinn like that? What is going _on?_

“Eva! Hi! Glad you could make it.”

Quinn practically trips over herself to get to the girl, and Rachel catches Blaine’s wide eyes easily, giving him a _look._ He just shakes his head at her, before turning back to the hugging girls and smiling.

“Eva, this is Blaine. And that’s Rachel,” Quinn sighs, pointing to them each. “Blaine’s a friend of ours, and Rach-”

“Hi. Quinn’s girlfriend,” Rachel waves, giving Eva a tight smile before raising her brow at the blonde.

Quinn ignores it, gesturing from Blaine to Eva. “Guys, Eva’s new to town. We met a few years ago, when I was guest-starring on her show … Uh, _Young Pines._ But she’s in town for a project!”

“Oh, I saw that,” Blaine nods. “It was … really interesting.”

Eva gives a self-deprecating laugh, and Rachel instantly can’t stand her. “Yeah, you could say that. Congrats on your nominations, though! Both of you,” the girl finishes, smiling warmly at Rachel.

She hums, giving the girl a tiny smile back, before hopping off the counter. Rachel can’t hide the scowl that graces her face when she realizes Eva’s taller than her. Of course she is.

“Hey, Quinn, we should start getting ready, yeah?” she asks smoothly, setting her bowl in the kitchen sink before regarding her girlfriend.

Quinn gives her an exasperated look, hands reaching into one of Blaine’s tote bags. “We’re not done setting up.”

Rachel can feel her jaw setting firmly, and she whips her head towards Blaine, fixing him with a glare. “Blaine and Eva can do it alone, right?”

The boy’s glancing between them, like a child watching their parents fight, and Rachel only feels kind of bad for putting him in the middle of it, but he just nods. “Yeah. All we have left is food and the pool floats.”

“Thanks, _Blaine,”_ Quinn grumbles, crossing her arms as she follows Rachel upstairs. “What was that?”

Rachel shuts the door to Quinn’s room, and pulls her t-shirt off, distracting Quinn for all of four seconds before the blonde shakes her head, scowling at her girlfriend.

“No, Rachel. Tell me why you acted like that.”

“Like what? Like I didn’t want some girl hanging around you?”

Quinn laughs harshly, shaking her head. “Rachel, she’s straight.”

And, okay, Rachel should’ve seen that one coming. “What?”

“She’s straight. And a possible coworker,” Quinn mutters, pushing Rachel against her door and trailing kisses down her neck.

Rachel combs her fingers through Quinn’s hair, tilting her head in confusion. Yeah, confusion. “Come again?”

“She’s here… on an audition… We have a … chemistry read later this week … So, I decided to invite her to this party-”

“Got it. Stop talking.” Rachel presses her mouth against Quinn’s, hand impatiently pulling at the knot in her shirt before tugging it over her head.

“We can’t do this right now,” Quinn sighs. She does nothing more to stop Rachel as the girl guides them to the bed, shoving her girlfriend back so she can straddle her. “Rachel, we don’t have time.”

“Sure, we do,” Rachel grins.

The doorbell rings as she’s slipping Quinn’s shorts down, and the blonde chuckles, shaking her head. “No, we don’t.”

She moves out from under Rachel, before extending a placating kiss towards the girl. Rachel accepts it easily, but pouts as Quinn pushes her back onto the bed and _doesn’t_ follow.

“You’ll live.”

“Will I?” Rachel whines, yelping as her swimsuit is plopped on her face.

“Yes. We’re going to go downstairs, and you’re going to talk to Eva. I think you have some making up to do,” Quinn hums, eyebrow quirking as she takes on that self-righteous persona that journalists mention so often, in regards to her.

“Especially if she’s gonna be your new castmate,” Rachel finishes.

Quinn grins, in that way that shows she’s actually really excited about this, and Rachel can’t help but be excited, too. Her girlfriend burns herself out so quickly. It’s so rare for her to really _want_ something.

“I’ll tell you about it later?” Quinn promises, turning around and holding the two strings of her bikini up so Rachel can tie it.

It’s so rare for Rachel to not be the first person Quinn tells when she is excited. The lack of updates on Quinn, recently, is starting to scare her. She feels as if she doesn’t know her girlfriend anymore. But she smiles anyway, and nods, and ties the back of Quinn’s top, before softly pecking the nape of her neck.

“Definitely.”

* * *

“Rachel, we need to go. What are you doing?”

The girl glances up at her pacing girlfriend, before refreshing her laptop again. “Waiting.”

“Waiting for what?” Quinn questions, plopping down behind her to stare at her screen.

“I’m getting my roommate today. I want to see who it is,” Rachel mutters. They said she could get her roommate anytime over the past two weeks, and today’s the last day. Honestly, she’d love to just not have a roommate, but she doesn’t think she’s going to get that lucky.

The blonde sighs, and Rachel leans back into her chest. “Well, we have reservations in … an hour, so can this wait? Or, you can look at it on your phone.”

“I could.” Rachel refreshes one last time, and grins as the screen finally shows her something different. “Oh! Oh, okay, it’s here. Let’s see-”

“Who is it?” Quinn interrupts, brow furrowing as her arms encircle Rachel’s waist, only to be pulled away as the brunette leans forward.

“I’m looking. Just… Okay. San …” Santana Lopez. Lopez? That’s what it says. “What? No. That’s … there’s no way. Santana? Santana Lopez.”

“Who’s Santana Lopez?”

Rachel feels herself being pulled back to a simpler time. A time where she wasn’t used to cameras being stuck in her face without permission. Where she didn’t have to project to the back of a giant theatre. Where she had friends that didn’t have full-time, jet-setting jobs.

Where a little girl with dark brown ringlets would push her off the swings, laughing, and then pull her up and tell Rachel to do the same to her.

Okay, so maybe none of her friends were normal. But Santana Lopez was the closest thing she’s ever had to it.

“She’s… Well, when I was a child, I was friends with a Santana Lopez. Best friends, actually. In Ohio. But… I mean, what are the odds?”

Quinn runs her fingers through her hair, combing out the knots that catch. “Probably pretty low. It’d be cool if it was, though. Message her, and then let’s go.”

Rachel stares at her screen for a moment, before clicking on the envelope icon. A phone number pops up, and she clicks on it, before formulating a text message. And, God, what do you even say to your future roommate, maybe-old childhood friend, probable competition?

Rachel writes out four drafts before Quinn accuses her of writing a novel, which is why she erases half of it and sends the first line.

**_You:_** _Hi! Nice to meet you. I’m Rachel Berry, your roommate._

She doesn’t get a response until after lunch, when she and Quinn are browsing through a bookstore. Or, well, Quinn’s browsing, and Rachel feels like she’s about to die of boredom.

**_Santana Lopez:_** _hi whats up_

Rachel purses her lips together, tilting her head. Is it wrong to expect a little bit more effort? A somewhat better first impression?

She ditches the text thread, and pulls up Instagram instead, searching for any and all Santana Lopezes. There aren’t many, and she clicks the third one on a hunch, squinting at the bio.

**_Santana_ **  
_straight-up b*tch_  
_dancer | captain of @wmcheerios | #nyadafrosh_

That’s her girl.

Santana’s a dancer, and after watching a few of her videos, Rachel feels insanely underqualified. She knew she barely passed her NYADA dance audition, but - wow, she barely passed, if this is what the _good_ ones looked like.

A few rows down is a group of teenagers, and Rachel tilts her head at the picture, frowning as certain faces call to her, and others don’t at all. It isn’t until she swipes the picture and sees _herself_ that she understands.

She went to school with all these people. For three years, yeah, but they were her friends! Some of them look different, and there’s a new girl that’s replaced Rachel in the newer photo, but… they’re still the same. Just _big_ now.

Finn? Flynn, maybe. Yeah, she remembers him. And Mikey Chang. Mercedes Jones, and Santana.

Santana looks exactly the same.

**_snixxtana:_ ** _oh, lima. what are you gonna do without us?_

“What are you looking at?”

Rachel jumps, locking her phone out of habit. “Oh, just…”

“Rachel, in a bookstore?” Quinn jokes, tilting her head. “At least wait-”

The brunette rolls her eyes, before pocketing her phone. “It was my roommate. She, uh… It’s the girl. The one I grew up with.”

Quinn nods easily, shoving her hands in Rachel’s back pockets. “That’s cool.”

“Yeah! It is, actually. Kind of weird to see her all grown up, but…”

One look at her girlfriend’s face tells her that Quinn is not listening at all, and Rachel tables the conversation. Her lip pulls into a thin line, and Quinn leans forward to peck them, before grinning.

“Let’s go.”

* * *

“Ready for our date?”

Rachel pulls her hand away from Quinn’s as they trudge through the entrance of the park, switching which arm the picnic basket relies on. “Ready or not.”

Despite what Rachel wants to think, it really isn’t Quinn’s fault that she’s in this funk, but… God, Rachel can’t take her stupid grin any longer. This has been the longest month of her life, and the last thing she wants to do today is be seen by the public. But it’s Quinn, and she’s making an honest effort, so Rachel lets her lead the way. Up a damn hill.

“This is probably my favorite place in the whole state,” Quinn breathes, taking a moment at the top.

Rachel can’t help but scowl at the girl, eyes cutting sharp as Quinn lays a checkered blanket below them. “It’s still wet.”

Her girlfriend gives an exasperated sigh, tugging at the corners before plopping down. “It’s drying. The blanket is thick. I think you’ll be okay, Rachel. Sit.”

“Why can’t we sit at a table?” she pouts, kneeling onto the blanket and handing Quinn the basket.

The blonde doesn’t even look at her, instead digging through the - _comically large_ \- basket. Her hair is falling into her eyes, and if Rachel wasn’t feeling so overwhelmingly annoyed by her today, she’d tuck it behind her ears. But she watches as Quinn does it herself, getting mustard in her hair as she does so.

“Because those are dirty, and even wetter, and I brought a blanket, and… and it wouldn’t be a picnic date if we didn’t eat on a blanket. Here.”

Rachel takes a bite of her sandwich (peanut butter and vegan grape jelly, she already knows), but it feels like hardening cement in her mouth, sticking to the roof of her mouth, and when Quinn leans forward with a Wet-Wipe to wipe the excess jelly off her face, she lets her, because she desperately wants to be done with this meal. With this date, this day, with-

“I’m sorry,” Quinn mutters, a hint of a grin on her face. “I think I put too much.”

Rachel harrumphs, setting her sandwich on the plate beside her. “You shouldn’t use so many disposable items.”

“Bio-gra-able,” the blonde grumbles, mouth full of her own sandwich.

A container of fruit sits in between them, and Rachel picks off a grape, before throwing it as far as she can. She ignores Quinn’s thinly veiled annoyance. She’s been doing a lot of that, recently. “Well… still.”

Rachel waits until Quinn pulls out the thermoses (God, it better not be tea) before she speaks up, wiping the crumbs on her dress. “What did you think of my Tony’s performance?”

Quinn hesitates for half a second, before she meets Rachel’s eyes, squinting into the sun. “I thought it was good. You guys won, and your performance reflected why.”

“But I lost. _I_ did. Blaine won, Paolo won, the musical won, and I lost.” Angry tears flood her eyes for the millionth time, but she doesn’t bother pushing them away, instead swiping at them angrily as Quinn tries to comfort her.

“Babe, this isn’t your only opportunity to win a Tony. You’re young, you’re talented.”

“Not talented enough.”

Quinn watches her from across the blanket, before crawling across and dropping her hands to Rachel’s shoulders. “Not true, it just wasn’t your time. But you will win a Tony. And when you _do,_ I’ll be right beside you. And you’ll for sure win.”

“Oh, stop, Quinn,” Rachel mutters.

“What?” The blonde falls silent, hands dropping from their place on Rachel’s shoulders. She’s tucking her legs under her, trying to stand up, but Rachel’s already pacing the blanket, brushing grass off her legs.

“This isn’t about you. For once, this isn’t about you. I know this whole date is to try and make me feel better about the hissy fit you threw-”

“I didn’t throw a fit,” is Quinn’s reply, soft and hurt.

“We don’t have to be each other’s date to every stupid little thing!” Rachel insists, standing behind Quinn as she stops her pacing.

“Fine, just… What’s up with you?” Quinn asks, brow furrowing as she sets her sandwich on top of Rachel’s. She swivels around, but Rachel’s back to pacing, eyes focused on the ground. “Why are you - Rachel, look at me.”

The brunette lifts her gaze, finding Quinn’s dilating pupils. Are her eyes doing that?

“What’s going-”

“Nothing,” she interrupts, pulling her hands away. “I want to take a walk.”

Rachel’s halfway down the hill before Quinn says anything, and all she hears is the girl cursing and stuffing things back into the picnic basket. “Well - fuck, okay, but can you help me pack this back up?”

The brunette shakes her head, crossing the sidewalk at the bottom of the hill and watching Quinn struggle to fold the blanket. “You can stay. I’m just going to walk around a little bit.”

“You’re gonna - Rachel, we’re on a date!” Quinn shouts. She abandons her useless efforts, instead chasing after her girlfriend and only pausing on the other side of the sidewalk. “Why are you trying to leave? Rachel!”

“What, Quinn?”

A little boy rides in between them on his tricycle, and Quinn can’t help but grin at him, eyes squinting as he waves at her. Rachel can feel her face soften at that, watching as Quinn waves back at him, before crossing the sidewalk to her patch of grass.

Her firm hands find Rachel’s waist, and her lips find Rachel’s lips, and she grounds her girlfriend in one fell swoop. And Rachel feels it. Of course she does. She feels the tug Quinn gives, pulling her out of her own head. Out of wherever this walk would’ve pushed her. This is why she loves her, isn’t it?

Quinn lets go far too soon, but lets Rachel tug her closer as she leans down to whisper in her ear, “I’m sorry.”

“No, Quinn. I am. I’ve been a total bitch, lately. I don’t… I don’t want you to think that you don’t have my full support. And fighting about something like this-”

Quinn shushes her, pressing their heads together. “We don’t have to talk about it. I want to be here with you. Before the summer ends, and life starts, and school, and movies, or whatever.”

Quinn has a strange look on her face, and it takes her girlfriend a minute to place it. She’s vulnerable. Those eyes, that smile, this moment. It’s all of Quinn. The _real_ Quinn.

Rachel hasn’t seen this in a long time. It presses her into saying what she says next. “I want to enjoy this moment.”

* * *

“So, I got that part.”

It’s the first thing that’s been said in what feels like hours. They’ve been unpacking Rachel’s belongings in otherwise silence, keeping to her half of the room. It was nice, even, but now the room has gone tense, and Rachel wishes she could stuff the words back in Quinn’s mouth. The blonde won’t look at her as she says it, and Rachel doesn’t like the way her stomach flips at that realization.

“Yeah? What’s that movie even about?”

The blonde shakes out the sweater she’s holding, before refolding it and sticking it in Rachel’s drawer. “It’s about… a girl.”

The singer gives a short laugh as she unzips her duffel bag, pouring the contents onto her new bed. “Many movies are.”

“I mean, it’s a pretty basic coming-of-age story. My character comes from an abusive family, there’s a teenage pregnancy storyline, and it ends with her giving the baby up for adoption and going on a date.”

“You left out a ton of middle stuff,” Rachel laughs.

She’s kind of surprised that Quinn even signed on to do this, let alone auditioned for it. Her parents would never let her, but she’s eighteen now, and apparently that means choosing her own films. It almost feels like a final act of rebellion. Although, it doesn’t sound like something that won’t at least be considered for an Oscar nomination, so maybe her girlfriend knows exactly what she’s doing.

“You can read the script,” Quinn promises, catching the skirt Rachel tosses at her.

“Who’s your love interest?”

Ah. Here they go. Quinn’s eerily silent, and when Rachel turns to stare at her, unnerved by the situation, the blonde’s staring at the ground.

“Quinn?” Rachel murmurs, tilting her head.

The blonde lifts her gaze, quirking an eyebrow at the look Rachel’s fixing her with. “Eva, actually, is my love interest. But… you know, she’s straight. And I have no feelings for her. So, do not worry. Don’t worry.”

So, that’s why Eva followed her on Instagram. Rachel’s definitely not following her back, now. Unless, of course, Quinn makes her.

“I’m not worried.”

Quinn stands, tugging at the hem of her flowered dress as she makes her way to her girlfriend. “No, I can see it in your face. You’re worried. Relax.”

Rachel hums at the feel of warm hands on her cheeks, eyes fluttering shut. A second later, kisses pepper her temple, and then her ear, and then her neck. “What are you doing?”

“What do you think?” Quinn giggles, sliding her hands down to cup the brunette’s bottom.

Rachel yelps, but let’s Quinn pick her up and sit her on the… empty bed. “Wait. Not here.”

“Your bed is covered in crap-”

“My clothes are not _crap,_ thank you very much.”

“-and your roommate isn’t going to be here for hours.”

“Well, I don’t know who told you that, but they lied.”

All Rachel feels is blinding pain as she shoots forward, knocking her head into Quinn’s in an effort to stand up. Her girlfriend stumbles back, one hand slapping across her own forehead and the other pulling Rachel up.

The girl in the doorway is… shorter than Rachel thought she would be. Her black tennis shoes must give her another inch, but she’s still shorter than Quinn is barefoot. Her t-shirt says _McKinley Phys-Ed,_ and it kind of makes Rachel want to ask her a million questions about her home life, but she settles for letting her cheeks turn beet red as the girl drops a box on her now-vacated bed.

“Hey, Santana.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> santana's here!! it's about to get good. as always, big thanks to kayla for editing this for me!
> 
> please leave kudos and comments if you enjoyed! thanks for reading xx

**Author's Note:**

> I am very, very excited to drop this fic. Hope you all love it as much as I do. Thank you to Kayla ([@dinergfs](https://twitter.com/dinergfs) on Twitter) and Charlie ([@iknowplaces](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iknowplaces/pseuds/iknowplaces) on AO3) for editing and formatting! Find me on tumblr and twitter @countinsix.
> 
> please leave kudos and comments if you enjoyed!! thanks for reading xx


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